“Wait, I need to take you home,” he called out.
He was wrong. I had made prior arrangements. Without looking back, I
slipped on my jacket and left the beach. When I showed up at the Starbucks a mile away, Thomas was waiting in my car, sipping hot coffee.
“What took you so long?” he asked. He handed me a blended drink. “You are
freezing. I should have got you something warm.”
“I’m fine. This looks yummy.” I took a drink of the cool concoction and grinned.
“Why the change in plans?” Thomas wiped whip cream off my lip.
“I just realized that popcorn and movies with my best friend sounded like a
better evening.”
“I could have told you that hours ago.” Thomas laughed as he accelerated and rolled down both our windows. There was nothing better than being with my
best friend and inhaling the ocean air.
Later that evening, I confessed what I had done. Thomas was supportive but
concerned. I promised him I wouldn’t confront any of the other boys and that I
would stay far away from Christopher. This promise I was happy to keep.
Instead of dwelling on the memories of the horrible evening, I chose my mother’s approach to life and pretended it didn’t happen. I focused on my final
month of school, and I dove into helping my mother grow her event planning business. Wherever, and whenever, she needed anyone to help, I was there.
I would survive high school. Studying and work were what kept me going.
My focus remained the same when I entered college. There was only moving forward now.
Nine
The Scienti ic Approach
My 19th Century British Literature class just ended when I heard a
voice behind me.
“Butterworth is a pain. I swear his main focus in life is to
destroy GPAs,” the man said.
I turned to see soft brown eyes staring at me. “To strive, to seek, to yield,” I
quoted Lord Tennyson.
The man grinned. “I am aware of Alfred Tennyson, but I am afraid this is out
of my element. You seem to have caught on quickly.” He nodded at my paper with a big red A and “Insightful” written on the top corner.
“I’m an English major, so this is my element,” I replied.
“Well, it’s nice to meet someone who enjoys this kind of stuff. Paul
Wallace,” he said, offering me his hand.
I accepted it. “Caitlyn Chase.”
“Well, I’m an environmental biologist. I am not in my element at all. Do you
think we could study together sometime?” Paul squeezed my hand and smiled.
Our friendship blossomed quickly into a romantic relationship. I studied at his apartment every evening. Sitting on the couch near each other turned into making out. Even with the distraction, Paul was focused on his academics, first,
and me, second.
One night, our kissing session became a bit heated, and he placed his hand on my upper thigh. I flinched, and he immediately pulled back.
“Did that make you uncomfortable, Caitlyn?” His face was lined with worry.
“I just haven’t had… a safe relationship.”
My statement was not enough for Paul. Before the night was over, I told him
